Evermore
by wordsaremyspells1331
Summary: Lucy is the daughter of a power-hungry merchant, desperate to escape her father's desire to expand his mercantile empire. Natsu is a cursed prince, forced to slowly transform from human to dragon for his greed. Natsu must find a way to make this wayward, headstrong woman fall for him before he becomes a dragon for good, because without her heart, his curse will never be broken.


**On the Road**

Lucy exhaled slowly, staring anxiously at the large oak door before her. She pinched the pale yellow skirt of her dress between her fingers, the smooth sensation doing little more than wrinkling the otherwise pristine fabric. She glanced furtively at the nearest staircase, imagining the ruckus her flight from the hall would ensue.

A cough interrupted her thoughts and, with the steward's sharp shake of his head, her blissful dream disappeared in a puff of wistful desire. A goat-faced man knocked on the door for her, looking annoyed at being taken from his usual duties to escort her across the compound, even if she was the lady of the house.

"Enter", came a gruff, impatient voice from the other side of the door.

_Maybe he won't notice_, she hoped. She dropped the fabric from her fingers as the door's steel hinges began to whine.

A broad shouldered man sat behind a massive desk overflowing with sheets of inventory and shipping logs. He did not look up as the door revealed his guests. Lucy waited for any sort of acknowledgement so the steward entered first, dropping into a short bow.

"The lady Lucy, as you requested, sir," he announced and left promptly, shutting the door behind her without pause.

"Hello, father," she greeted quietly, making sure to keep her voice low and unobtrusive. It was the way he preferred her to speak on all occasions.

When the man said nothing, Lucy moved forward to take a seat on the solitary chair waiting before the desk.

"I did not invite you here to sit," the man chastised while scribbling something into one of the ledgers. "There's no need. This will not take long."

"Yes, father," she replied and stepped back. Her fingers itched to pull at her skirts again but she would not risk him finding a seam out of place.

_You must always be at your best_, he often told her. _Anyone may be watching, and listen when I tell you... someone always is._

Her father was a stern man. Hardened by nearly two decades of endless persistence in a bitter, ungrateful field, Jude Heartfilia expected his only child to model the exemplary behaviors of a young woman born into a position much higher than her own.

Jude set his pen down beside the ledge and rose, turning immediately to look out the window than to face her. He clasped his hands behind his back and watched something far off.

Lucy did not flinch at the rebuke. This had become something of a tradition between them. Her father would speak when he was ready and Lucy would wait patiently - silently - until he addressed her directly.

"Do you recall our conversation on your eighteenth birthday?" he asked briskly, still facing the window.

"That was two years ago, father," Lucy replied in the same soft voice. "I may not recall exactly which conversation you are referring to."

Jude exhaled impatiently and turned to pace away from the window and towards the adjacent wall.

"I asked you to consider your intentions regarding joining the family business." He eyed her with a calculating calm. "Have you considered it?"

"Many times, father."

He raised an eyebrow expectantly. "And?"

Lucy clasped her hands together as she considered her response. "While you know that I would like to assist you in any way I can, father, with the estate or your company, it is not my desire-"

"That is all I needed to hear," he interjected and took his seat again, picking up his place in the ledger. The silent dismissal was also their tradition, though it always left her with a sour taste lingering in her mouth.

"Do try to get the wrinkles out of your skirt before anyone sees you," her father called, as the oak door shut her out of his sight. She flushed and hurried away, leaving her father's office far behind.

* * *

The small town of Acalypha was home to a small farming community that bordered the land owned by her father. The farmers rented and cultivated some of the unused land for the simple fee of providing the entire compound with a portion of its harvest. This agreement had opened the small town to Lucy and she was free to come and go as long as the sun hung in the sky.

Lucy took advantage of this freedom after the contentious conversation with her father, hoping the fresh air and change of scenery would settle the unease spreading through her nerves. She'd exchanged her nicer yellow dress for a simple blue frock and wore her sturdiest shoes for the trek.

The long walk did little to help, for her thoughts were wild. She could not fathom her father's intentions through his summons. However, her mood lifted as the town came into view. Though small, the sleepy village was always a happy place.

She entered by way of the western road and stopped by the bakery on the corner of the town square. There, she greeted the full-bellied baker and purchased a fresh roll to snack on as she walked. She waved kindly to the teacher herding her class inside for their studies and helped a clerk carry a particularly heavy chest of new books into his shop.

Lucy said goodbye to the clerk with a promise to come inspect the new books when they were ready for display and continued on, a cheery skip to her step. Without the vast walls of her home surrounding her, Lucy smiled and soaked in every sight, smell, and sound.

"Watch out!" came a shrill shriek to her side.

Lucy spun around to see two women standing at her side, hands on their hips and derision in their sneers.

"Oh! I didn't see you there," she remarked passively, sidestepping to get out of their way.

"Clearly," one woman snarled, brushing her hands against her overflowing purple skirts and pausing to inspect an invisible blemish on one side. She tucked a wayward strand of her olive green hair back into the tight updo she sported beneath a neat purple bonnet. "Do pay better attention."

"Be nice, Kyoka," the second woman cooed demurely. She twisted a strand of midnight blue hair between her pale fingers, her own pale purple dress as overflowing as the other. "She may be pretty but she mustn't know any better. She clearly cares very little for her own state of dress."

Lucy glanced down at her own dress, worn for comfort and ease of travel instead of its impression. Dirt from her walk coated the lower hem of her skirt and mud coated her shoes. She flushed self-consciously; her father would be very disappointed in her if he found out.

"I'm not being anything but myself, Seilah," Kyoka claimed haughtily. "Lucy may live in a fancy house, but she'll always be what she is."

"And you will always be you, Kyoka," Lucy greeted icily, her warm happiness quickly bleeding away. "Seilah, it's nice to see you're feeling better."

"The syrup you brought really helped," Seilah murmured, casting her gaze to the side. "Thank you."

Kyoka huffed and turned away, Seilah quickly following behind her, the two women striding across the road with their skirts hitched up in hand to avoid the muddy puddles.

Lucy rolled her eyes and continued towards the eastern edge of town, ducking into a worn down shop identified only by the small wooden flower above the door.

"Hello?" she called into the poorly lit shop. Candlelight flickered dimly, their wicks gasping for air above bubbling puddles of wax. Potted plants and jars overstuffed with dried herbs filled every available surface save for a small shelf behind the counter stacked high with books. Lucy smiled at the shelf, having read each one a dozen times to memorize their contents perfectly.

Her thoughts paused when she heard the sharp tinkling of breaking glass. It had come from the back room where Lucy knew the apothecary kept his workshop.

"Master Sequen?" she called out with concern. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, yes, yes," came the bright lilt of the apothecary's voice. "Just a small accident. Nothing to worry about."

A large body bedecked in a colorful patchwork cloak filled the doorway, the apothecary's bushy hair brushed back by the frame. He shuffled backwards into the room, carrying a vial steaming with something dark green and putrid.

"Warrod! What on earth are you making?" Lucy cried, hands flying to her nose. "Did you fish out dead rats from the sewers?"

"Rats carry diseases, Lucy, not cure them," the elderly man, Warrod Sequen, quipped before setting the vial on the counter and pushing back his sleeves. "What good would I be as a town physician if I _gave_ the villagers the plague?"

Lucy eyed the vial skeptically, keeping a wary distance from it and the wild-looking man who tossed dried leaves into the concoction.

"Although," Warrod continued, his age-weathered features pinching in contemplation. "I suppose causing a massive plague would create plenty of work for me to do. Job security and all."

"Master Sequen!" Lucy squawked, her eyes bulging. "How could you even think of that?"

"A joke, child," Warrod laughed, his hands raised innocently. "Merely a joke."

The putrid stench had faded enough for Lucy to breathe more easily. Whatever the apothecary was adding to the mixture was changing its consistency and its scent.

"What is it for?" she asked curiously. Warrod was the village apothecary but he also worked as the only physician of quality for miles. He cured illnesses with his mixtures and steady hands as cleanly as a magician worked magic.

"A draught for a pregnant sow." Warrod added a dash of powder, turning the mixture a startling shade of yellow. He hummed and swirled the contents until they regained a greener hue. "She's nearly ready for her first farrowing and needs relief from the strain."

"Why aren't you making a compress or poultice for her?" Lucy inquired, stepping closer to inspect the ingredients he was adding.

"Normally, I would agree, but she has been remarkably active for a pregnant pig. The topicals won't work if she moves around." Warrod chuckled as he mimicked a pig frolicking about with his fingers. "I'm afraid it's down the gullet for this lady!"

Lucy hummed and turned to look around the shop, noting several new jars she did not recognize the names of.

"Now it isn't that I'm not delighted to see you," Warrod called after her. "But I wasn't expecting you today. Was there something you needed?"

Lucy took a deep breath, remembering her confusion after her meeting with her father before she could recall her other reason for heading into the village.

"Yes, actually. I came to inquire about an injury."

Warrod raised an eyebrow and shifted his colorful robe around his shoulders. "A personal injury?"

"One of the guards," she elaborated, pulling a note about the injury out of her purse. She handed him the small list. "He twisted his ankle in a hole. I've set it, as you taught me, but I was thinking about putting a compress on it to reduce the swelling."

"I see," Warrod eyed her thoughtfully. "What blend are you thinking to use with the compress?"

"I recalled something from my readings about using eucalyptus and ginger, but when I tried that it didn't help as much as I would have liked." Lucy shuffled her feet uncomfortably. "I've had to store fewer items after the last time my father…"

"He found your herbs?" Warrod inquired, concern furrowing his brow. Lucy had been coming to see Warrod for years and though she rarely spoke ill of her father, or said much about her life on the estate at all, Warrod had picked up on things Lucy _didn't_ tell him.

"He found the whole garden," Lucy whispered, hugging her arms to herself. Her father had called it a waste of time and a useless, dirty frivalty that would do her no favors with her future husband. He had ordered it destroyed the same day. Years of cultivation and tender attention had been shredded before her eyes.

Warrod was quiet for a moment before a spark flickered mischievously in his eyes. "Is your dream still the same, Lucy?"

She nodded quickly. "I want to be a doctor."

"Even if it isn't _proper_?"

Lucy straightened her back and looked her mentor in the eye defiantly. "_Especially_ if it isn't _proper_. I want to cure the sick and heal the wounded… I want to help people."

Warrod nodded silently and grabbed a book from the shelf behind him. He found the page he was looking for and set it upside down for her to see. "It's only a small passage mentioned here but if the usual techniques aren't working I would suggest adding a small dose of willow bark - not too much or it might worsen the inflammation - and a healthy dose of comfrey. Only use these if you are using it as a compress. Boil everything and soak the clean cloth for twenty minutes. Do not let the guard ingest the comfrey."

Lucy nodded, darting about the shop to collect the ingredients he'd mentioned and a few others. He watched her measure out her portions carefully and wrapped them in small paper envelopes for easy transport. Lucy nicked each envelope differently to remember what was housed inside. When she reached for her purse to pay him, Warrod waved her off and handed her a watering can instead.

"You help me enough here, Lucy," he offered kindly. "Your success will be enough payment for this old man."

* * *

Lucy left the apothecary shop after a few hours of tending plants and helping Warrod mix another fetid potion, this time for a rabid farm dog and the farm hand he'd bitten. He had reminded her to check the bookshop's new stock for any texts that might benefit the small apothecary and its resident physician.

As she slowly made her way back through town Lucy wondered at the medical needs of the small village, concerned if she would ever find her place among them. She did not know if the simple life of treating farming accidents and livestock births would be enough for her. She was young and had lived a sequestered life in her father's home. She read stories of the world and wanted to see more of it.

Lucy was interrupted from her thoughts by a burst of snickers. She looked around before finding Kyoka and a gaggle of women peering unabashedly in her direction, few of them barely pretending not to stare from behind their silk fans. She rolled her eyes and moved away until another she caught another group of eyes staring in her direction, and another. Whispers of 'odd', 'peculiar', and 'outsider' reached her ears, quickening her steps towards the road that would take her home. Laughter and more whispers of 'rich', 'snob', and mockeries of her time in the apothecary found her from every direction.

Tears bristled in her eyes as solitude hit her with heavy hands. These people did not know her; did not understand. They had never really bothered to learn.

She jumped as warm fingers grasped her arm, halting her escape.

"Where are you off to in such a hurry, Ms. Heartfilia?" A smooth, oily voice purred in her ear. A shiver slithered down her spine. She looked up into the pitch black eyes who owned the hand on her arm.

"Hello there," he greeted her, a smug grin settled naturally onto his handsome features.

"Hello Mard." Lucy gently tugged her arm out of his grasp and took a step back. Mard Geer was a wealthy baron who owned much of the land in the surrounding area that her father did not. He was young for a man with his title, having inherited early after an unfortunate accident left him bereft of his remaining family.

He was tall of frame and lean. His hair was wavy and extraordinarily long, the dark purple locks tied back in a ponytail but still reached his shoulders. It was a striking contrast against his pale skin. He was bedecked in a long, black jacket trimmed with black flames. A high-collar, frilled shirt buttoned up his neck and his torso was covered in a wide swath of black, wrapped and buckled across his chest with a gold clasp. This attire was finished off with light pants and dark, knee-high boots. Mard tended to dress in the newest city fashions, today being no exception; fashions that were wildly inappropriate for the simple, nameless village.

Lucy eyed a pair of heavily armed men behind him and the flock of Kyoka's group eagerly in step behind them. She took another step back. "I'm going home."

Mard glanced at the group behind him and, with a simple wave of his hand, the crowd dispersed. Annoyance flickered across his features but disappeared when he faced her fully again, his arrogant smile returning.

"Please stay," he pled softly. In a louder voice he continued, "It is by the grace of Zeref that I ran into you today, Lucy."

She flinched at his mention of the Dark Sorcerer's name. She often dismissed the superstitions of the villagers, but the Dark Sorcerer Zeref was a name even her father was wary of. He had his followers in every corner of the world, even here.

"Walk with me," Mard demanded with an arm outstretched for her to take.

Lucy tucked her arm into his, knowing it would please her father to entertain the baron's good favor. He led her around the town square, near the central fountain and off towards the northern woods.

"What brings you into town today, Mard?" she asked calmly after a few moments of silence.

"A little of this and that," he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. He flexed his fingers, inspecting the spotless nails for invisible markings. "I had a debt to collect and a very _unwilling _payee."

"That sounds unfortunate," she offered pathetically, not wanting to know how he went about convincing people to pay back their debts. They had reached the edge of the northern forest but stopped before entering the treeline. Lucy stared off into the darkness beyond the fir trees.

"This is Zeref's forest, right?" Lucy did not know why she whispered. Something in the darkness warned her that the trees were listening.

"It is," Mard concurred, looking happy that she spoke of his faith. "Well, mostly. His forest begins beyond the bridge at the edge of the ravine. You can find it about a mile past these trees."

Lucy peered into the treeline as if to spy the ravine within its darkness. "Have you crossed the bridge? Gone into his lands to meet your sorcerer?"

Mard frowned, bitterness eating away at the picture of his lazy grace. "Zeref forbids all from entering the woods beyond the bridge, Lucy. Even us, his most devout followers. You know this."

"I've heard whispers in the village," Lucy admitted skeptically. "But you don't really believe all that nonsense -."

"It's not nonsense," Mard hissed, devotion blazing out of him. "Zeref is a powerful sorcerer; timeless. His word is law and it would do you well to obey his laws. You do not want to face his wrath."

"Legend of Zeref has been known for generations. There is no way that he - if he ever truly existed at all - that he could still be alive today. I bet we could cross that bridge without fear right now." Lucy leveled a challenging gaze at him.

Mard glared back defiantly. "No soul has ever returned after crossing the bridge. There are dangers beyond the trees that would frighten the most stoic of hearts. Even yours, Ms. Heartfilia."

"I don't believe you. If there were those kinds of dangers out there, a bridge would do little to keep them away." The darkness within the trees was entrancing, calling to something hidden in the back of her mind.

"Never cross the bridge, Lucy," Mard pled softly. "I cannot protect you if you do."

Lucy held back her retort. What protection could he offer her from her problems now? She did not want it, whatever it was.

"It _is_ fortunate that I should run into you today," Mard murmured as if sharing a secret.

"Is that so?" She tore her gaze from the trees to meet his eyes, their rich darkness glimmering in the afternoon light.

"I had been hoping to speak with you before I met with your father tomorrow about our business proposal. I wanted to bring some good news with me." His eyes flashed, drifting slowly down her body.

Dread filled her before she dared to ask, "How does speaking with me provide you with good news for my father?"

"The news of a Zeref-blessed union, of course," he crowed, arms raised toward the topmost height of the fir trees before him. Mountains loomed in the near distance, their peaks disappearing into the clouds high above.

Mard turned to face her properly and knelt down on one knee before her, taking her hand between his own. Lucy began to shake her head and back away but he kept a firm grasp on her.

"Allow me to court you properly, Lucy," he asked directly. "You are beautiful and intelligent… a passionate woman. I have had my eye on you for years and I know our union would yield great things for this miserable place."

"Mard," Lucy protested, her heart breaking at his easy dismissal of their small village. "Yes, you've been pursuing me - I _have_ noticed - but -."

"But what?" His gaze was eager, confident. "We are a good match. Wealthy, beautiful - our children would be magnificent."

"Children?" Lucy exclaimed, wrenching her hand away. "I haven't even agreed and you're already speaking of children?"

"Then forget the pretense," Mard continued, rising to his feet. "Marry me. Bear my children. Agree to be my wife and let us take this news before your father. Zeref will bless us, Lucy. We will be taken care of in his favor."

Lucy shook her head at the mad ramblings of the man before her, the man whose own flock cast their derision upon her and scorned her presence. "I do not belong with you, Mard. I'm sorry, but I have to say no."

Mard stilled, eyeing her skeptically. His armored guards arrived from between the nearest houses at the edge of town and whispered rapidly in his ear. He grunted and adjusted his coat, nodding at something they asked him.

Turning back to Lucy, he bowed shortly. "My apologies, Lucy, but I must depart. I have heard your response and I do protest it. I will find another way to convince you to marry me."

"Doubtful," Lucy bit out, arms crossing over her front. She stood tall against him but he looked down on her with a smirk that made her feel like a fawn before a wolf.

She waited until he turned from her and passed beyond the nearest row of houses before letting a rough shiver overtake her whole body. It took minutes for her shakes to subside and she was able to trudge slowly around the edge of town to the eastern road and make her way home.

* * *

It wasn't until midafternoon on the following day that Lucy was summoned back to her father's study. A stableboy found her tending to the guard with the twisted ankle, applying a second compress to his injury, calling for her to hurry. It struck her as odd that he would summon her again so soon. Her father did not call on her often, and a month would often pass before she spoke with him again.

She called back an affirmation that she would be along shortly as she finished wrapping the guard's ankle. The swelling had already been reduced significantly by her first treatment the night before and she left the remaining brew with firm instructions that he was to rest and reapply that evening before sleep. Once that was finished, Lucy ran back to the main house, her skirts flying.

She dashed to her room, stripped her soiled clothes, wiped her skin with a cool cloth, and donned a more formal gown to present before her father. She checked the cloth for wrinkles and, once satisfied, walked carefully to her father's study. The steward was not there to announce her this time, so one of her father's guards knocked on her behalf.

"Enter!" came a bright, cheerful voice. Lucy hesitated as the door opened for her. It had sounded like the father of her memories… before her mother had died.

Lucy stepped into the room slowly, looking around for the cause of her father's delight. He was standing at the window again, but instead of looking out at the expanse of his land he was facing the door; facing her. She kept her posture poised while her insides roiled. Something had changed.

She dipped into a curtsey, as he expected when he faced her. She kept her voice low and unobtrusive once more. "It is nice to see you again so soon, father."

"Yes Lucy, my dear. Please stand," her father replied, disarming her with a large smile. His tone was kind and excited, like a child wanting to share a special treasure. She straightened and waited silently for him to explain her presence.

He strode forward and placed a large hand on her shoulder. "We have an opportunity, Lucy, but I need your help. I have a new business venture, something that will put our family name down in history."

"What do you mean?" she inquired, wincing when she forgot to check her volume. She was not supposed to sound too curious.

Her father did not notice. "I need your help, Lucy. There is no one who can help me seal my new business venture but you. It will mean much for the family if you do this one thing for me. Will you do it?"

Lucy's heart strained. She did not want to be a part of his business but her father was asking her for help. He never asked her to help him. How could she say no?

She bowed her head, "Of course I will, father. I'm happy to help you."

"Fantastic." Her father beamed and moved to his desk, searching and speaking rapidly. "In that case, you are to be wed at the end of the year. Your betrothal will be announced tomorrow at a small dinner party for my associates and your courtship can begin immediately."

Lucy froze. "My… my what?"

Her father smiled at her. "Betrothal, dear. You are to be married. Surely we have spoken of this before?"

"You said I was to help your _business_." She was flabbergasted. "How does marrying me off help the family? You can't possibly think to _sell me off_."

"Of course your wedding helps the family," her father paused his search and his smile turned pitying. "I want to see you taken care of, to live a happy life of comfort. This man has made us an incredible offer. He is successful and wealthy beyond measure. You will be very happy."

"I don't want to be someone's _wife_, father," Lucy protested brazenly. Help-be-damned, she couldn't agree to this! "How could you do this?"

Her father took a deep breath before staring her down. "This is a partnership we cannot turn down, Lucy. Too much of our fortune depends on it. Your hand in marriage was his only condition for a smooth transaction."

Lucy's insides were cold, seething with barely checked rage. "Who?"

"Pardon?" Jude looked confused, as though wanting to know who bid highest for her was trivial nonsense.

"Who am I being sold to?" she spat, the father she thought she loved falling away to reveal the monster she'd known him to be.

He gave her the answer she dreaded, but had already known in her heart. "Mard Geer."

* * *

Lucy ran.

Down the eastern path, dirt and pebbles scattering beneath her boots, she ran. A small satchel was tied to her back, bouncing against her dress. It was another plain frock in a shade of pale pink that looked almost white beneath light of the swollen moon.

She had no direction, no plan. Only an urge that screamed for her to GO.

So she ran.

Through the town square, startling the lingering lovers whispering at the fountain edge.

Between the houses, where candles flickered to life and curses followed in her wake.

Into the forest, she ran and lost any trace of the direction she was going. The moon shone through the branches directly overhead, unable to guide her path.

She ran and ran, her lungs bursting, scraping at her insides for air. She wouldn't stop; couldn't.

Her father had used her. He _sold_ her. To Mard. He denial had not been enough. Her father betrayed her.

She approached a wide ravine and skid to a stop before her path could take her careening down the steep crack in the earth. She heard the rush of water coursing below, though she could not see the bottom. She stared across the dark abyss, a deeper blackness laying within the trees beyond.

Voices echoed in the distance behind her, calling her name, searching.

She cursed herself quietly. Of course she had been seen. Her father would never let her flee.

She could not jump across the ravine, so she turned to the right. Blind hope pulled her forward until she saw it, the narrow bridge no one would ever cross. Symbols were carved into the wooden posts that held the weathered rope and planks in place, crude work that filled her heart with fear.

The voices behind were getting closer. She could see the faint flicker of torchlight moving through the trees.

She was out of time.

So she ran.

She crossed the planks, their wood smacking and groaning beneath her boots. She refused to think, to contemplate her fate, as the suspended bridge moved and swayed gently.

She stumbled once, her hands grasping for the ropes on either side to steady herself before she was off again.

She reached the other side and slipped beyond the nearest trees as the first of her pursuers broke the tree line on the other side.

"Where did she go?" One called out.

"I think she went that way! Over the ravine!"

"No one crosses the ravine. Everyone knows it's suicide. Try the other way!"

Lucy moved on in case her father sent a braver soul to cross after her. She followed a small dirt road that took her deep into the forest, into a darkness that the moon struggled to pierce.

She ran until her legs wobbled, her exhaustion ready to swallow her. She had not seen a single house or home along her path, no light or kind face to take her in. She wandered on, keeping to the road as best as she could.

She slowed to a walk as she realized she would have to spend the night in the woods, trudging along as she searched for a safe place to close her eyes. She saw nothing around her but darkness.

Panic scratched at her throat, her skin alight with nerves as she kept on. She followed the road as it curved alongside a tall boulder heavily coated with ivy so thick, she barely saw the stone. She turned to look around and tripped, her boot toe catching on an unseen pebble sticking out of the road.

Her arms collapsed from weariness beneath her as she fell, unable to support her weight. She closed her eyes, willing sleep to consume her before a beast of the forest did.

Her head tilted to the side and she looked one last time, accepting the darkness as her last sight in this life, and paused.

Beneath the wall of ivy, through a wide break in the stone, a light shone in the distance.

* * *

**A/N - Happy NaLu Week 2019 everyone! I've missed you all. Here's hoping you like my new short fic in celebration of this event! -xoxo**

**P.S. - Go read ShanaHallows and MorriganFae. Shout out to all their hard work this year.**


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